Two rows of Barbie dolls lie on the floor
No loving hands to hold them anymore
No little girl to tuck them into bed
Because that little girl is now dead
She grew up too quickly and learnt about life
The anger and sorrows, the nightmares and strife
She learnt about heartbreaks before she learnt about love
But now she’s with angels — she’s high, high above
Her body still dwells with us here on this earth
But her spirit has vanished, no more laughter or mirth
She’s sullen and silent, a shadow crossing the floor
And she will find happiness inside her no more
Rose of Prose 